


The Break

by carefuldean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Canon Divergence, Episode: s07e02 Hello Cruel World, M/M, Not Happy, Not Really Character Death, lil hints of bobby and sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:42:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4920022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefuldean/pseuds/carefuldean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is broken.  Above all else -above Heaven, above humanity-, Castiel has to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO I totally took the you'll-know-what scene and fucked with it so it would work-- I tried to include as much canon as I could, though, so are we cool? TW for mentions of alcohol and negative thoughts, I guess.
> 
> Based from "Mess is Mine" by Vance Joy, very loosely, and thanks to the wonderful Daryl for sending me that song and telling me to write something angsty about it.
> 
> HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE <3

Dean Winchester is broken on every level. He has scars, white lace on his knuckles and burn marks on almost every appendage. His liver is just beginning to scar over with the cruel amount of whiskey it drowns in every night. His heart is stitched haphazardly together with the love he holds; the tears it has are caused by the very same. His thoughts rip him apart, making him shoulder weight that does not belong to him and believe he is too weak to carry it all. Even his soul is broken; it was ripped apart by the worst forces of creation and hastily glued back together by a soldier in the depths of enemy territory. He is broken, hurt, and battle-worn from the way the world and his mind are turned against him. 

Castiel is more aware of this than perhaps Dean wants him to be. He knows that the hunter prefers to keep every thought, every flare of emotion shielded on the chance that it will be torn apart like a deer by wolves. So, out of the concern they would be even more uncommunicative, he never tells Dean that he knows. He tries not to tell him, but it comes across in the drawn-out, longing, one-sided glances. It comes across in the soft way he says "Dean," like his name is an exaltation. 

Dean never seems to see the sadness Castiel holds in his name; if he does, at least that is shrouded from the angel's watchful eyes. Castiel doesn't want Dean to see it. The less obvious his sympathy, his love, the better. His devotion is too intense for Dean’s tender soul, and it would only hurt him. It would weaken him to know that, despite the opacity he strives for, he has shown Castiel everything. 

Castiel could not be equally as transparent, and that is what creates the frayed lines between them.

Their faces are lit by the fire that keeps them separate. Holy oil always burns brighter, and despite the pain of betrayal in Dean’s eyes, he is grateful for the opportunity to drink in the hunter’s features.

“You gotta look at me, man. You gotta level with me and tell me what’s going on. Look me in the eye, and tell me you’re not working with Crowley.”

Castiel looks down, and the break of Dean’s whispered “son of a bitch” says everything he doesn’t. He tells himself he’s helping the Winchesters, and they just can’t see it yet. He tells himself they’ll understand why he’s opening Purgatory when Raphael is gone and Dean is safe again. Raphael would turn the world into a graveyard. But Castiel can’t help but think that he would let every soul burn out if Dean’s is allowed to thrive. 

“I’m doing this for you,” he says, his voice hollow where his conviction should be. He hadn’t meant to hurt Dean, but that is exactly what he did. He can see it in Dean’s eyes-- Cas had made a mess of such a beautiful heart. The mess is Cas’s to create, but Dean’s to bear. It is Cas’s to fix.

For weeks, he cannot stop thinking of how to heal Dean. He breaks down the dam to the worst afterlife, his mind trained on how to break down Dean’s barriers. His veins turn black with malignant spirits and he kills honest, God-loving people, all while wondering if this is how Dean feels-- like he is being corrupted by an evil force he cannot control.

He comes up with the solution one day in a church, wiping black blood from his nose. It takes a Godlike amount of self control to not burn down everything in a five-mile radius at the pain the realization causes.

The Leviathan are slowly taking over. Their all-corrupting thirst for destruction is creating such turmoil that Castiel barely has control. But he has enough. 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he manages to get out, the words a mumble as he fights for control. Dean furrows his brow, shifting his weight uncomfortably on the shore of a lake where he knew they would end everything.

“Cas, don’t…” Dean trails off as Cas cups his jaw with a hand, the most intimate they’ve ever been. He swallows thickly, plump lips parting in the hope of something that could never happen.

“I have to. I have to clean the mess I made of you,” Cas whispers, and pulls away. If Dean were able to, he would have noticed the last of Cas’s Grace seeping into his skin, an enchantment ready to rework the very molecules of his body. “I’m sorry.” He turns and walks into the lake, finally relinquishing control to the Leviathan. He closes his eyes as he becomes completely submerged and is at peace, knowing with a final flash of white light that he has finally healed Dean.

Back on shore, Dean winces as a sharp pain hits the inside of his skull, then looks over at Sam and Bobby. Their faces are equal pictures of horror and despair, and Dean frowns at them.

“What are we doing here? We fishing or something?” He walks away, shaking his head as he tries to settle the uncertain feeling in the back of his mind, followed by the two blindsided hunters. 

A tan trenchcoat hits the shore, undulating softly with the waves.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens next.

“Can you help me?” Dean asks, his eyes glued to a man he’s never known but always has.

Emmanuel watches him with reserved, electric eyes, a line between his eyebrows like Dean is a man from a past life. “I believe I can.”

Dean is so drawn to the familiar features of a face he’s never seen before that he almost misses the stranger’s next words. 

“How can I heal you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More canon divergence yaaaaaayyyyyy


End file.
